A Matter of Time
by Kyd Chyme
Summary: The Shadowhunters must travel to the past when the time line is in danger of being altered by the Magistrater and previously believed dead Sebastian...Can they save the present? Or is the future already destroyed?
1. Magnus's Mission

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Instruments, Infernal Devices, or any of Cassandra Clare's characters. There are some Terminator, Star Wars references in here; also not mine.**

A Matter of Time

Clary watched Jace out of the corner of her eye. He was still in his gear, hair messy and sporting a faded black eye. She sighed and grimaced as he rolled over in his sleep _again_ and bandaged right shoulder gently pushed against Alec's propped up foot. They were in Magnus's living room, though Clary wasn't exactly sure why at the moment.

Jace and Isabelle had taken Clary on what they called "Field Training" earlier that day, and it didn't end well. If someone had told her that this morning, she would have assumed it was entirely her fault. Surprisingly, it was something else completely. Something wrong.

They'd been taking on two Ravenger demons, dumb and slow as they were, that had been terrorizing an alleyway a few blocks west from the Pandemonium Club that Clary had had her first experience in the Shadowworld almost a year ago.

Clary had just finished off the second Ravenger under the watchful gaze of her boyfriend, Jace, when the _things_ came through. At first glance they appeared human, but humans weren't so strong, or jerky, and did not enter alleys through _portals._

They were mostly faceless creatures; some had eyes or a nose, but their putty-like skin lacked human animation, and when Clary sliced through the sword-wielding arm of an attacking enemy, it's arm fell away with a metal shriek and a clang.

_Terminators. _Simon had declared later. Now, at Magnus's assurance, automations. Robotic creatures with limited free will and dangerous features.

Magnus walked briskly through the foyer that attached to the main living areas. Red sparkles flew out of his black hair are he pushed towards the small group of Shadowhunters. Alec set down the magazine he had been through. "Magnus, what the Hell going on?"

"Well put." Jace, apparently awake, mumbled. Clary blushed and made a point of avoiding his face when her ducked head came up again.

The Warlock sat down on a purple ottoman across the couch Jace and Alec were lazing on, folding his long fingers into neat rows as if in prayer. "We have a problem, and I won't be able to get anyone else's help. No one trust worthy or capable of productive action,anyway.'

Isabelle drummed her fingers on the arm chair, "Okay, then. So why did you call them over too?" A slight tilt of the head indicated Simon and Maia, who awkwardly sat side by side to the left of Isabelle. "No offense."

Maia rolled her eyes and looked away, but Simon shrugged thoughtfully, "Maybe he wants to feed us to the Terminators.

Now it was Magnus's turn to roll his eyes. He stopped the motion when they reached the peak of his lids and fluttered his eyes close, as if he lacked the will to continue the action. "I assume you wonder-brains realize that those things that came through the portal weren't your run-on-the-mill robot assassins, yes?"

Jace snorted, "No, obviously they're the new and improved version. They can clean, spice up your love life, and come with their own weapons, too."

Magnus ignored the last comments, but corrected, "Actually, they're an old model. Over one-hundred and fifty years old, in fact. And they really, really shouldn't be here."

The six teens occupying the room stared blankly at the cat-eyes High-Warlock. Magnus looked impatient, "I need you to go and make sure that doesn't happen again. I can't trust anyone else to do this right." Simon raised his hand timidly. Magnus buried his face his forearms, 'Sheba help us all for that." He looked back up. "Yes, Simon?"

"How exactly did that happen? The robo-killer deal, not the "You're my last hope, Obi-wan" part. That detail is my next question."

Magnus looked a little pained, ". It was 1878, London, England, and absolutely unheard of. There was a man, a once-mortal, who managed to bind demon energies to machines-automations, as you saw. The Shadowhunters were nearly destroyed by the creatures, but a small group or warriors and Downworlders managed to destroy them. I was among their numbers."

"Congratulations, " Jace quipped, "but you clearly failed."

Magnus scowled, "No, we didn't. That's the thing. We killed the Magistrate and set off a device that deactivated the automations. We _won. _But now they're here, which means someone is screwing with the time line."

Alec raised one long brow. "Is that possible."

Magnus inclined his head, jaw set. "In theory. I've never met a Warlock powerful enough to actually make a time-portal. But then, before last year, I'd never met a Shadowhunter capable of creating a portal at all."

All eyes turned to Clary. "What? You don't think _I _had anything to do with this, do you?"

"No." Magnus breathed, but I can think of a few determined greater demons who could, with the right resource, attempt something like this."

"You're talking about Sebastian." Isabelle narrowed her eyes. "He's dead. I checked his pulse myself."

Magnus locked eyes with her, "Don't be foolish Isabelle; his body was gone. Someone, or something, as the case may be, took it. Never assume you're enemy is truly dead until the body is burned infront of your own eyes." He gave a little shiver, 'And even then…"

Jace rose to his feet, Alec by his side, "Alright, so what do we have to do?"

Magnus almost smiled, the first time since he stalked into the room. "I need to send you back in time to ensure history goes as intended." He cracked his knuckles anticipatingly. .

When he finished, Simon raised his hand again. "So, _you're _going to send us back in time?"

"Well, yes. Clary, her fancy runes, and I are going to send you back in time."

Maia spoke up, "Why are you sending me and Simon?"

"Good question." Jace mused, "Are we really going to feed them to those things? Because I find myself oddly against that action. Bad mental picture."

"No." Magnus allowed a bright grin, "It's all much more dangerous than that. You see, it's all about politics. We managed to get Shadowhunters, Warlocks, Vampires, and Werewolves to _work together._ Even now, that is quite a task, but then… Nearly impossible. In fact, it almost didn't happen. We nearly all died. Very dramatic, very unnecessary."

"Politics." Simon repeated.

Magnus nodded, "Now, I've thought this through. First you must locate the head of the London Institute. Her name was-is- Charlotte Brandwell. She is to be convinced first, then trusted. She'll do right by you if you prove your case-. 

"And how, exactly, do we do that?" Jace cut him off, "Power Point presentations?"

"Good reference." Simon commended.

Jace nodded in appreciation, and continued, "This is ridiculous-even within our world."

Magnus bit his bottom lip. "I know. Believe me, I do. Which is why I was thinking about sending you when they would need you most. You help them out; give them a reason to trust you…and they might hear you out."

"A set up." Clary scrunched her nose, "That sounds wrong."

"Not if it truly helps them. And I think I can work this out, so hurry up and decide because you have about seven minutes and twenty-four seconds before I ship your butts out of here." He rose to his feet and motioned for Clary to follow him. "Let's set this thing up. Now."

Clary stood, but didn't move towards the Warlock, "It doesn't work that way. I can't just magically conjure up a time-travel rune and say 'Let's be at it then'."

Magnus held out a hand, "I know, Angel-girl, but we've got to try."

**It'd be much appreciated if you guys would leave a review,**

**-Kyd Chyme**


	2. Desperate Exits

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Instruments. There are some Harry Potter mentions in here, used by clever characters that belong to Cassandra Clare. Still not mine.**

**Chapter Two**

_Magnus is a smart-ass. _

"_Thank you, _my dear. Truly." The Warlock deadpanned back.

Clary blinked. She hadn't realized she'd said that aloud. "Sorry." And she was, a little, but mostly, she was tired. Clary just wanted to curl into a little ball on Magnus's couch and let the Nyquil-pleasantary feelings whisk her into sleep.

Jace came up behind his girlfriend and wrapped his long arms around her small frame. "You did it."

Clary gave a sleepy smile he couldn't see. She wanted to say something clever to that, like, _Always the tone of surprise,_ but a lot less lame. She settled for, "Mmhish-mmh." And let the matter drop out of her mind.

Of course, what, exactly, she _did _was still up to debate.

"It looks kinda like the Deathly Hallows symbol." Simon mused. Surprisingly, not one person in the room gave the vampire a confused look.

"Universal commodity." Maia shrugged, "Everyone loves a good vs. evil story that isn't your own."

"Exactly," Jace played, "when we we're racing around trying to kill my sorta brother and father, I kept thinking, _What would Harry do."_

"Shut up." Isabelle instructed, though there was no criticism behind it. "Do you _feel _that?"

Jace and Alec froze. "What-"

Clary let out a sudden gasp as the windows of Magnus's living room threw it selves forward and dark, jerky figures swarmed into the room. Magus lunged for Clary as the other teenagers in the room formed a tight half-circle around the runed doorway. "Finish it," he demanded. "You guys are leaving _right now._"

Clary caught herself of the wooden door frame and slashed a single line down the center of the folding triangle she had created. Black lines glided and bled over the indigo paint like running blood, as if the rune was so infinite and undefined that it could not remain contained. The door felt like the burning sensation of dry ice on wet skin. Her body was flash-frozen and being dumped in lava and twisted and pulled, the whiteness blinding as it sucked her face into the back of her skull and pushed down on every bone in her body…And then it spit her out.

Falling out of the time-portal was a hundred times worse than entering through Lake Lyn, but at least there wasn't any water to drown in. Clary landed on something squishy, squirming, and angry. "Church?" She sounded out. But then as nausea and dizziness overtook her body, she didn't care if she had landed on George Washington.

Thuds and bumps came across the wooden floor, several examinations and curses along with them. Somewhere in the distance Clary heard a scathing hiss she'd learned to associate with Simon, but it was so muffled it was hard to tell.

"Clary!" It was Jace, impatient and worried sounding.

Clary scrambled to her feet, "I'm fine." She promised. "What- oh." Clary found herself directly across a dagger's pointed blade, it's wielder a pale boy around her age. Clary couldn't look away from his odd, silvery eyes, even though they didn't look pleased to see her. Clary gulped.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

**Alright, so it was a bit short, yadda yadda. Sorry, but I really needed to get past the whole portal thingie. I really appreciate reviews, especially as they let me know two Very Important Things, 1) What people think about this story, and 2) That people are interested. Consider my logic.**


	3. New Arrivals

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Instruments, Infernal Devices, or any of Cassandra Clare's characters. **

Jem didn't need to turn around to know the treat issued was to be taken seriously. He could feel the burning-ice sensation from the speaker's weapon just behind his neck. The sort of feeling that comes from being in the proximity of powerfully runed metal.

He saw movement out of the corner of his narrowed eyes. The first sight was all black hair and fair skin. _Will._ But this boy was taller and more lean. The set of his shoulders reminded Jem of a prowling cat. The boy was brandishing a blackened bow, its glistening arrow directed at Henry, who was standing over a crumpled figure that had landed on the now food scattered table in the middle of the dining room.

The new arrival rolled away from the figure-head of the Institute and landed in an animalistic crouch as the last body dropped in across Jessamine's vacated chair. A shower of ink-like hair obscured the intruder's facial expression as she struck the wood, but Jem still flinched when he heard the wood buckle under the force.

For a moment everything was frozen, the only noise coming from the black-haired girl gasping on the floor. Jem held his neck taunt against the blade, watching Henry as the inventor edged his hand towards the Illuminator that he had placed on the table earlier.

"Simon!"

Jem flinched into the knife when the girl at his feet shrilly called the name. Her eyes were searching the room, not bothering to look at the weapon he had pressed between the divots of her collar bone. Her large, green eyes turned to the figure behind Jem.

"Jace, Simon can't have-"

A white flash of light not unlike the Illuminators explosive light burst through the room. The girl reeled like she'd taken a hard blow, moving back so quickly Jem was over-balanced by the sudden loss of pressure at the end of his blade as she tumbled to the wooden floor. She didn't move

"Clary!" The voice at his ear was raw, but after a moment the harsh pressure at Jem's neck was removed and his would-be killer was face down next to his companion.

Jem felt the wave of light run through his frame like a strong wind, pressure and heat pressing down on him hard enough to drive Jem to his knees until the unsettling glow rescinded into the air.

He spun wildly to his feet and moved towards the black-haired boy off to his left. He was down. All of them were. The light had pushed through the intruders like a moving wall. The silver-haired Shadowhunter let his vision jump face to face. All of the Institute residents were still on their feet, seemingly untouched by the force that had knocked the others down.

Charlotte stepped into the center of the odd circle of strewn bodies. Her small face was pinched tight. "Check for pulses."

Mutely, Jem dropped to a knee and placed his fingers just under the red-haired girl's jaw-line. Alive. Charlotte turned around the room for results. Jem nodded in conformation.

Will swung open the heavy wooden doors that led to the main hall. Jessamine looked the most apprehensive he had ever seen her at his sudden arrival, but it was Will's words that sent her over the edge. "Why in God's name is there a vampire sleeping in the Sanctuary?"

Jessamine grabbed one of the blades attached to Henry's thick leather belt and held onto it with a death grip.

Charlotte stared impassively at the scene. "Get them secured. All of them." She spared her husband a glance. "We need to call the Clave. Tell them to bring reinforcements."

**Hey guys and gals, so I feel like this story is taking me a while to write…It's just, I can see this thing getting so cheesy so entirely and ridiculously quickly. So, to keep me confident and un-paranoid, please please please tell me if something strikes you as lame, cheesy, crappy, or otherwise corny/OOC-ish. I WILL correct that if I am informed, 'cause I really really don't want this to be one of **_**those**_** fic. Oh, and reviews in general are nice too, of course. **

**-KydChyme**


	4. Meetings in Dreams

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Instruments, Infernal Devices, or any of Cassandra Clare's characters.**

Jace never liked sleeping. To sleep was to be defenseless; lack of sleep meant clouded thoughts and slow reactions. And dreams. It was a no-win situation. He hated dreaming.

_Sweet dreams._

Valentine had never told him that before sending Jace off to bed. It never applied. Runed children led to nightmares. Cities with blood running through the streets and dying angels filled his child's mind.

Mayris had said it to him, just like with her real children, but after rushing to Jace's side after his first truly uncontainable nightmare, she never said the phrase to him again.

Of course, there were some nights without dreams. He remembered that night in the city of glass, when he was sure it would be his last night to live. He had slept then, free of nightmares and fears. All there was in the night was Clary's soft breathing and the warmth of her body across from his own. No monsters to kill his family or blood soaking his shoes.

But he dreamt now.

_Somewhere a violin played past the swirls of black fog. It's sharp notes frayed the blackness swirling around him, twisting them into a sort of dance. Floating yellow lights dimly led back into the abyss of black. They reminded him of eyes. "_Jonathon Christopher." _ But that wasn't him. Jace tried to refute the claim, but his voice was lost; a faded memory he once knew, but could not quite grasp. "_Jonathon Christopher_." The black fog shifted into an oily mirror reflection. Jace moved towards the rippling substance, the runes across his body burning in protest every step he took over the absent ground. He walked on the mist that burned him like acid. The black screamed of wrongness. The Angel's marks did not belong here… "_Jonathon Christopher." 

_The pool of dark stilled like a held breath and Jace tensed in anticipation. His face stared back at him. "_Jonathon Christopher." _He shook his head. Jonathon Christopher was dead. His mirrored-self smiled and distorted its self into Sebastian's sharp features. His dripped thick black liquid. "_Jonathon Christopher." _The violin shifted into something softer. _G-minor, _he identified. The sad tones made him uneasy. _

_Sebastian gave Jace a knowing smirk and threw his pale fist into the surface separating the two. "_Jonathon Christopher." _And everything shattered._

**I apologize for the chapter shortness, but I need this scene for some general foreshadowing. Also, I wanted to keep Clare's tradition of Jem's violin playing being able to transcend into dreams. More to come soon, as in later today soon, because honestly I'm just trying to keep these necessary separations separate…**

**Feel free to complain or throw out thoughts,**

**KydChyme**


	5. Negotiations

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Cassandra Clare's characters, the Mortal Instruments, or Infernal Devices. At all. **

Jem eyed the blond boy lying across the canvass cot over his violin. As soon as the intruder had begun moving he slowed the sharp notes into calmer ones and watched his closed eyes dart back and forth behind his lids. He was a restless sleeper.

A soft knock rebounded against the metal door of the small confinement room. Jem kept playing when it opened a moment later. "Torturing our guest already?" Will inquired jauntily, "That seems a bit unfair. He hasn't even pleaded his case yet!"

Jem cut a note short. "I wouldn't be torturing him I wasn't busy with _your_ shift. Truly Will, I thought you would enjoy playing guardsman –he looks capable of putting up a good fight."

Will smiled. "Perhaps, but I found one of our other guests to be far more interesting."

"Is one of the others awake then?"

"No. But I found her intriguing nonetheless." Will let his eyebrows shoot up as the young man secured to the cot strained against the runed metal that tethered him to the ground beneath his bed. The swirls and dashes spoke of restraint and captivity. Their strength made his stomach tighten with a cagey nervousness.

Jem rolled his eyes up good naturedly and picked up No. 21 in E minor.

"And by intriguing," He continued, "I mean highly –"

Will started as their "guest" shot open his eyes and swore fluently in between rasping breaths as he nearly strangled himself on the metal cuff that restrained his body from moving into a sitting position. After his initial jerk, Jem and Will silently watched him fall back against the cot.

Both Shadowhunters watched him regain his breath, dark blond hair sticking to his waxy forehead. His eyes looked glassy and bruised with dark shadows. The amber orbs narrowed when he saw Jem.

"He looks like he's going to be sick." Will commented.

Jem opened his thinned mouth to add to the commentary but was cut off as their charge interjected hotly, "_That_ seems likely. And if you keep staring at me like I'm an interesting insect I'll be sure to launch in your direction." Both boys actually took a step back when the angry prisoner gave an involuntary dry heave.

"Will," Jem sounded carefully, "could you please get Charlotte?"

Will nodded. "Of course. I'll be right back."

By the time Will locked the door behind him the boy had regained his bearings and was eyeing Jem coolly.

"We know you're a Shadowhunter." Jem stated blantly, "But Shadowhunters don't typically threaten each other. Or suddenly appear out of the air and land on each other's dining tables either."

The other boy didn't seem to take in what Jem was saying. "The person he's getting, is that Charlotte Brandwell?"

Jem inclined his head, "Yes. Do you know Mrs. Brandwell?"

"No, I don't." He blew a chunk of hair out of his mouth and averted his eyes up towards the wooden ceiling. The candle light in the dark room reflected off the numerous metal nails.

Jem looked up at them for a moment as he followed his gaze. He always thought they looked like fireflies against the crossed layers of dark brown. "Alright. Then I'll get to the point. How did you get –?"

"No." The boy closed his eyes. Jem noticed the right side of his face looked a bit swollen. "I'm not talking about this with you."

"Fine." Jem tried to sound reasonable, "Mrs. Brandwell will be here shortly."

"I'm not going to talk with her either. This is ridiculous." He let out a huff, "That boy I came through with? The tall one with black hair? Go talk to _him._"

"Interesting." Charlotte had somehow managed to slip in without the two boys noticing, Will gliding in just behind her, "That's exactly what your companion said when _she _woke up." Charlotte moved to stand in front of the captive. "Of course, you seem to be in a much better mood than she was."

The boy raised a single brow. "Wonderful. And what did _he_ tell you?"

Charlotte shifted her weight on one foot and gave a small frown. "He requested three things; that he be allowed an audience with me and one Tessa Gray. Alone. He also asked me to acquire proof that his companions were alright. Even the Downworlders you came through with, but only after the third request was fulfilled."

"Which is?" He inquired of her.

She crouched down next to him. "My name is Charlotte Brandwell. I'm head of the London Institute. The Shadowhunter boy, Alexander, is it? He seemed to have a bit more knowledge about negation than you." The boy scrutinized her as Charlotte waited patiently.

"My name is Jace."

"Jace –?"

"For now, just Jace." He locked onto her large brown eyes, "And third?"

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, "He asked that none of the Downworlders be left alone; that you be allowed to pair up Shadowhunter to Downworlder. I assured him that my own household, let alone the Clave members we called in, could more than handle a single vampire and a werewolf, but he insisted."

The boy, Jace, gave her an amused grin, "Somehow I doubt he was trying to protect _you_ from _them._" Behind Charlotte, Jem and Will exchanged a glace, but the boy didn't elaborate further.

Jace lifted his bruised hands as far as the runed cuffs would allow, "Alright, take me to my vampire."

**Feel free to leave a review,**

**KydChyme**


	6. Sanctuary Acquaintances

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Cassandra Clare's characters, the Mortal Instruments, or Infernal Devices. **

Chapter 6

Simon was eight-five percent sure he wasn't going to make it out of the room alive. The waiting alone was enough to make him feel like he was about to burst, but the glowing seraph blade attached to the pale hand of the young Shadowhunter was sending him over the top.

He was still in the Sanctuary, which was comparatively the crypt of Gothica's bloody depressant years to the calming hues of the room in New York he had become acquainted with since his rebirth.

Simon swallowed. The young Shadowhunter stood across from him, showdown style in the center of the room. One warrior stood at each exit, both looking like they expected Simon to attempt a rampaging feast at any moment. The one in front of him looked more angry than anything. Or maybe just annoyed.

Simon tugged at the graphic tee under his leather jacket. The Shadowhunter inclined his body forwards. Simon froze. Swallow. Tense. Repeat. At this rate, one of them was going to explode from the stress.

"Maybe we should just both sit down, okay?" Simon rotated his eyes past the piano tucked into the corner of the room and towards the small round table a few feet away. Neither boy moved. "Or not. That's fine." He swallowed and chucked the urge to pull on his shirt. "You know, I always thought you guys should have a piano in the Sanctuaries. That's a heads up move. More homey, you know?"

The Shadowhunter narrowed his olive eyes. A single brown curl fell across the eyebrow. "Do you play?" Simon didn't wait for an answer. "A lot of Shadowhunters seem to be musical one way or another. You'd think vampires would be too, but I've been disappointed with the results. You think with all the time on our hands…" He swallowed, "Of course, there are some exceptions. Like Lestat. Now there's a real vampire rock star. Classic."

The door sounded like a thousand bolts popping when it opened, but the sight of Jace entering was enough to keep him for making a break for it. A small woman with dark brown hair stood in front of the Shadowhunter while two young men flanked Jace from behind. His hands were cuffed together. Simon's sharp eyes could make out the black swirling cuts of runes embedded into the metal.

Jace gave a small smirk, the irritating kind that Clary loved and generally pissed Simon off. He may have been trying for the 'reassuring' look. Simon gave him the benefit of the doubt and attempted to return the gesture with a sort of half grimaced upturned lip.

"Last time I was this happy to see you I could fit into a shoe." Simon gave out a breathy laugh.

Jace acknowledged the comment with a smile that made it seem as if Simon's time spent as a rat was nothing short of a fond memory. After a moment his face turned serious, "Are you alright, Simon?"

Simon tried to gain some composure, "Sure. I was just explaining Interview with a Vampire to my new friend."

"Ann Rice." Jace nodded slowly, "I approve. Does that make you Lestat?"

"Of course." He relaxed his shoulders a bit. "Minus the orientation thing. My compass points in a different direction, you know? And if we're going movie version, I rather not be compared to Tom Cruise."

Jace blinked. "You've lost me, vampire."

Simon shrugged contemplatively. "He has a big nose."

"I'll take your word for it."

The small woman glided over with an impatient air. "I have business to attend to. What do I need to deliver as proof? Your companion said you would know."

Jace grinned without emotion, "Of course. Tell him that Dragon Demons are only mostly extinct." He glanced at Simon, "And tell him there's a reason why we don't bring mundies to Downworld parties."

The boys behind the woman shared an amused glace. She looked at Jace like he had just asked her if she would care for a date with him. After a pregnant pause she nodded, "Alright. I'll have the message delivered." With that she turned her back to the room and started towards the door.

"Mrs. Brandwell." Jace called after her in an uncharacteristically polite voice, "Could you tell me how the little red haired girl is doing? She's… been through a lot lately."

Simon thought about how pale Clary looked after creating the portal and darted his eyes to the woman –Mrs. Brandwell – and tried to read her expression. She looked unconcerned to him. "She's fine. They all are." She tilted her hear as if thinking something through, "I believe she fell back asleep a few minutes after waking up." And then she left the room, the door's locks clicking behind her. The two Shadowhunter boys hadn't followed.

Now Simon's babysitter looked furious.

Simon tried to inconspicuously maneuver behind Jace. Noticing his intentions, Jace gave a condescending smile and strode over to the round table. Even the chairs look hard, Simon noted as he followed suite.

"There is no reason for you to be here, Herondale." He growled.

Suddenly, Jace's head snapped up with a crack louder than Isabelle's electrum whip striking metal. Everyone, even Simon, stared at him.

Jace looked utterly dead-panned, "Bug." He explained, but Simon could make out traces of an odd emotion flitting in the Shadowhunter's gold eyes.

The vampire shook his head. They knew something like that could have happened, and Jace just look it with human moment and an excuse. It was all a part of being of the Shadowworld.

Simon noticed neither Shadowhunter had looked away from them. Jace observed them with an unconcerned gaze. "Can I help you?" He drawled lazily.

No one answered. Simon shifted in his seat and made a production of staring at the table top. Jace's scarred fingers were lightly drumming it's smooth wooden surface, the metal cuffs wrapped around his wrists occasionally scratching the finishing. Simon noticed a ring on his finger, just as thick as the Morgenstern ring Clary wore around her neck, but a few shades darker. On it's fine brushed surface he recognized the Lightwood family crest. It looked like it belonged on his finger just as much as it did on Alec's or Isabelle's.

Finally the green-eyed Shadowhunter let his harsh glare fall to the silver haired boy standing in an overtly erect position beside him. "Is Mrs. Brandwell nearly done with the other one, James?"

The black haired boy he had snarled at studiously ignored the conversation in favor of an uncomfortable staring contest with a highly amused Jace.

"She didn't say." If the other boy noticed him companion's antics, he didn't show it. "But I doubt it. She seemed in such a hurry to get back…"

Without breaking eye contact, Jace dropped in, "I noticed. Is there a reason for that? Because I know he isn't being uncooperative."

The brunette stepped forward until he toward in front of Jace. Simon thought that if the two were to stand side-by-side Jace would almost match the other boy in height. "My father is… concerned Mrs. Brandwell has had previous contact with your members. And rightly so, I believe."

"The black haired boy snapped his head towards the other boy. "What are you implying, Gabriel?"

The Shadowhunter –Gabriel –glared at him viciously, "You know exactly what I am implying! Intruders claiming to be Shadowhunters, portaling into the Institute with two disgusting Downworlders in tow? How does that look, Will? Demon blood and imposters portaling onto ground where even Shadowhunters are only able to walk into!"

The two boys stood almost nose to nose, both looking like they'd like nothing more than to rip each other apart.

"Will…" The silver haired Shadowhunter exasperated.

Jace made an affronted sound, "I," he said cooly, "am not an imposter." He glanced over to Simon, "Of course, I've always had my suspicions about him. Are you really a Shadowhunter, Simon?"

Simon looked at him like he was insane.

"Well?"

Simon decided to play along, "No, Jace, you've caught me. I'm not really a Shadowhunter. In fact neither is Mia." He tilted his head methodically, "Also, Clary was just pretending to be a pixie. She's actually just an abnormally short person."

Jace gave a shocked start, "Really?" But turned serious when the silver haired Shadowhunter gave an amused chuckle at the show. He turned back to Gabriel, "And who exactly is your Very Important father?"

"Benedict Lightwood." His tone suggested a superiority that Simon had long ago learned to associate with the higher-up Shadowhunter families.

"Lightwood."Jace gave a wicked smile. "In that case, you may remind your upstanding father, and all members of the Enclave for that matter, that only Nephilim can bear the Angel's marks." He peeled back the flexible leather of the fingerless glove on his left hand to reveal the rune that claimed his heritage. The Mark was partially obscured by the metal cuff binding his wrist together. Jace let the smile drop and leaned back into the stiff chair as if it was one of the plush cushions from the Institute's library.

Gabriel wasn't the only Shadowhunter in the room to narrow his eyes, but if Jace was uncomfortable, Simon couldn't see it.

"Mrs. Brandwell, of course, informed the Clave of your Marks." Gabriel spared Simon a glance, "Yours and the vampire's."

Simon let his hand drift to the black cross on his forehead. It was the only thing on his body that ever truly felt warm.

"Very interesting," Gabriel continued, "considering only Nephilim can bear Marks."

Simon shrunk back into the seat as far as it would let him as the stares in the room fell onto him. Wanderer of the Earth. Daylighter. Abomination. Simon thought of the other Runes. They would have found the one on Mia, the one Clary had made for the final battle against Valentine's forces, and then the demon Marks he'd seen used to raise the greater demon Valentine had had summoned.

Jace seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Not all Runes are Heaven made."

They were saved momentary from further interrogation by a resonating knock against the heavy wooden door of the Sanctuary. One of the young Shadowhunters standing guard allowed the inquirer entrance. At the door stood a man so large even Jace gave an impressed swear in commemoration.

"Pardon me, but Mrs. Brandwell has sent for our…guests." His voice was surprisingly soft, though Simon highly doubted the man was some harmless teddy-bear in disguise.

"Thank you, Thomas. "The black haired Shadowhunter, Will, responded. Before Gabriel could issue the order, he directed Jace and Simon up to their feet. Noticing the wary way Simon was staring at the newcomer, Will added, "Thomas, would you please assist the guards with the vampire?"

Simon didn't even bother to restrain the hiss snaking up his throat.

**A special thanks to liddlepierat, who has thrown in some very awesome review-points that shall come into play in the next few chapters. (= **

**Feel free to leave a review guys,**

**(sorry I had to just re-post thing. I found a mistake…I mean, **_**obviously**_** Simon isn't being escorted **_**anywhere.**_** He's a vampire after all, and besides that I want Gabriel to stick around the crowd for a bit…**

**KydChyme**


	7. Interrogations and Vague Explanations

**Disclaimer: I don't own. **_**Nunca y nada.**_

Chapter 7

Alec let his forehead connect with the thick surface of the metal engraved table with a resounding "thunk".

"...yet you continue to claim loyalties to the Clave and refuse to explain how you came to portal into the Institute!"

Alec groaned softly.

"_Then_ you proceed to declare the Shadowworld in danger of being destroyed by living machines, _machines that no one_ outside of the Council and the members of this Institute should have knowledge of_ –"_

"Automations." He corrected. "The machines are called automations."

Benedict Lightwood spun stiffly towards the boy, nostrils flared and skin blotched violently. "Again," he demanded.

Alec didn't bother to lift his head. "Our purpose here is to ensure the survival of the Clave," his voice droned, "The automations are being controlled by the Magistrate, whose identity we were not made aware of..."

"And his purpose?" The man prompted with an exaggerated patience.

Alec had long since decided he did not like Benedict Lightwood or his temper or the condescending tone he had taken with Alec as soon as he realized how much it irked him. Alec also decided he was acting too much like Jace, who at this point, Alec would have enjoyed to have seen unleashed on the man. "Is complicated. Where is Charlotte Branwell?" Benedict Lightwood scowled, but Alec continued, "_She_ is the one I need to explain this to."

The creases on the man's thin cheek increased into caved lines. _He looks ill_, Alec realized, _The kind that doesn't just go away._

The dim room abruptly burst into a flared lighting from the heavily candled hall way, _Probably lite up so it would be harder for me to hide_, he mused. Then Jace's tall figure was filling the door frame, the black eye he bore just visible in the shadow cast across his face. Behind him Alec could see four figures, three of them around jace's height, if a little taller. For a second he thought the small form beside Jace was Clary, but the shadowed face had dark hair that had been pulled neatly to the back of her head.

"Perhaps with a little motivation from your companions you be more reasonable." He suggested with a cold casualness that gave Alec little goose bumps along his gear clad arms.

"You can't do that." Alec growled, "They're _children_."

Jace looked too shocked by the claim to sound angry, "I am _not_ a child."

Alec didn't bother to spare is parabati an apologetic glance. He wasn't sorry. "Yes, Jace, you are. Under Clave law anyone under eighteen is considered a child." Alec narrowed his eyes until they were sharp slits. "Shadowhunters do not torture children."

Alec took in the way Benedict Lightwood's red rimmed eyes flashed with anger, his bland skin flushed an odd purple that reminded Alec of a frozen corpse left on it's stomach too long, all the sluggish blood heading the call of gravity.

"The Downworlders –"

"Are under the protection of the Accords." The small figure stepped into the light and gave Benedict an unyielding glare that dared the older man to argue Charlotte's claim. He didn't.

The woman looked directly at Alec, her dark eyes sharp. "Now, Benedict, I'd like to have a word with Alexander." She looked to the three boys that had stepped into the room after her,  
>Alone," she finalized.<p>

When everyone had finally left with scowls or back glances of concern and the accepted insistences from the silvery eyed boy that Jace, like Alec, be placed in the chains that extended from the stone floor and led up to the metal trimmed table.

Beside Alec, Jace gave the heavy metal a small jingle and after a moment of observing the black runes imbedded into the metal he sighed and suck deep into the hard, almost throne-like chair that held them in place. Alec twisted a little in his seat so he faced at an angle to both. Charlotte watched them intently.

"We found the runes that marked you each a parabati. I assume to each other?"

_Trying to make a conversationalist out of us._

Alec nodded slowly as a small smile crept up on Jace's face, "Do you enjoy undressing _all _of your prisoners? Or just the particularly attractive ones?"

Charlotte gave him an odd sort of stare, like she was expecting someone else in his seat, and then gave Alec the same treatment, her lips unconsciously parting. She shook her head, clearly giving up on some other course of action she had intended. "I need to know how you arrived here," she said, "Mr. Lightwood tells me he –and all other members –have been unsuccessful in gathering information from –"

"Magnus Bane." Alec said abruptly. "Magnus Bane sent us."

Charlotte looked stunned at his outburst, but quickly recovered, "The warlock? Why would he do that? You claim to be Nephilim." She reminded him.

"We are Nephilim," he promised, "Magnus sent us through a portal here –we had to come."

Charlotte looked even more confused, dark eye brows raising with every word. Jace looked over from the flushed face of his adoptive brother to Charlotte and elaborated, "Those metal creatures you've been dealing with? They've become our problem too." He locked his sienna eyes to her large brown ones, "Magnus had requested our presence –he said there was a threat on the loose that could destroy us –then the automations attacked us in his living room. I'll assume that's the threat he was talking about." Jace gave a methodical shrug, "Or, possibly he ran out of glitter. I bet _he'd_ be a threat to _everyone_ then."

Charlotte blinked. "Where?" she asked, "Where did you come from?" Her voice sounded tight.

"The New York Institute." Alec told her.

She shook her head, "No. The New York Institute is headed by Aloysius Starkweather." Charlotte stated, "He's been there nearly all his life, and his father ran the Institute before him." She shook her head again and moved as if she intended to leave.

"You're pregnant." Alec blunted. "With a boy."

Charlotte froze, "I –I. No, I –"

"Benedict Lightwood? You're worried he's trying to take the Institute from you. He won't. Not him, not his family. Your father wanted his son to run this Institute –and when you came instead, he put it on your shoulders, just as you wanted."

Charlotte gaped a little. Even Jace looked surprised. Almost any other time, the thought of a look like that on his parabati's face would have made him smile.

Alec leaned forward, "Before Magnus sent for the others, he let me look through the Shadowhunter genealogy he keeps in his library. That and some personal journal entries he kept."

"Should he even _have_ those?" Jace muted.

Charlotte unfroze, "_No." _She sat back down, "He shouldn't."

Alec shrugged, the thick chains holding him sounding like falling coins. "Magnus is a pack rat." He gave a fond smile, "He knows when something is worth keeping, though, and all information is valuable."

She studied him closely, "I'm not pregnant."

"Okay," Alec accepted, "but the first child born to Henry and Charlotte Branwell was born in 1879."

Charlotte was quiet when she spoke, "I know what you're trying to make me believe." She annunciated each word carefully, as if she had to force the words into a pattern she didn't quite understand "That is insane. Unnatural."

"Isn't all of the Shadowworld?" Alec asked softly.

She inclined her head, "Only to those who are not a part of it." Without another word she stood up and exited the room. Her face was expressionless.

Charlotte gave them one final stare in the heavy doorway before closing the metal door, leaving the two boys in the darkness.

**Feel free to leave a review, especially since I'm a lil insecure about this chapter…but that's mostly because I'm trying to get the plot line points without make cheesy reveals an d twists. Don't let me get cheesy. I **_**hate**_** cheese.**

**-KydChyme**


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